So, I Have A Theory
by HigherMagic
Summary: SLIGHT WINCEST. Dean has been researching what this 'Slash' stuff is all about, and decides to do a little experimenting. Shall be more than one chapter. I DON'T OWN THEM AND THAT KNOWLEDGE MAKES ME CRY. T for now.


**So, I Have A Theory...**

Written as a tribute to **eclecticxdetour** who writes such fabulous Winchester slash and inspires me to love the boys all the more.

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"Hey, Sam?" Dean murmured softly, swiftly flicking a finger over the touch-sensitive pad of Sam's laptop as his younger brother pushed in the door, arms laden with grocery bags from the gas station and supermarket down the street; he'd been feeling a dire need for something other than diner food and this motel was swanky enough to have a little kitchen suite, which meant a refrigerator; the Winchesters were eating fruit and vegetables for the next few days while they worked on their current case.

Dean closed down the window he was browsing through, shutting Sam's laptop without bothering to power it off as he looked towards his brother. Sam set down the various bags with a sigh, smirking over at Dean, sarcastic quip rolling easily off his tongue;

"Yeah, don't help or anything."

The elder Winchester smiled merely, pushing himself to his feet and stretching his arms over his head. He delighted in the popping of his spine that came from the tension of sitting hunched over a computer all day - he didn't know how Sam could stand it – that made his little brother wince and bite his lip in a way that, until recently, Dean hadn't even noticed. He watched the sharp sink of Sam's front teeth into his bottom lip, slightly to the left side of the centre, and kept his eyes focused as the now-slightly-reddened piece of flesh slid back out to freedom. Sam only ever did that when he was thinking about something.

"So, I have a theory..." Dean began, hands sliding into the front pockets of his jeans as he sauntered towards his younger brother, not even bothering to keep up the pretense of helping him pack things away; Dean merely leaned against the cheap waxy counter top, arms folded over his muscular chest.

Sam stopped what he was doing, casting his dark green eyes over to his brother. "About the case?" he asked, confusion tinting his voice slightly more highly-pitched, reminding Dean of his youth and comparative innocence. After all, Sam had only been doing this for about a year, and then when he was younger too. Dean had been doing it all his life, hunting; he'd seen things even Sammy couldn't understand or dream about. Again, Dean watched in a near-trance as his little brother bit his lip, making it redder with blood flow and slightly swollen. Dean swallowed, shifting his weight slightly as he looked away; he couldn't get distracted.

He couldn't help it though; ever since the Winchesters had found out about the weird fiction world that was their lives – _Supernatural_ – and the fact that there were people who _wrote_ about him and Sammy..._together_...well, it had peaked his interest. He's always had a little curious niggling in the back of his mind. After all...he and Sam knew each other better than anyone could ever hope to, and they were so close, sometimes too much so. People could just as easily assume that they were lovers as family, and after a while that had stopped bothering Dean...he'd grown too curious for his own good. Like Sam had said, he always had a hard time distinguishing reality from porn, and some of these writers had very _vivid_ imaginations.

It was weird how _accurate _some things were as well...like...the fact that Sam was incredibly ticklish on his flanks, if someone touched them too lightly he would break out into a fit of laughter, uncontrollable. Or the way Sam bit his lip, or the way Dean always ran a hand through his hair when he was frustrated or exhausted...and even more disturbing, though he couldn't speak for Sam, exactly what their kinks and different sensitive spots were.

He wanted to try a few out, but only if Sammy was on board. No way in hell would he fuck up a relationship with his brother because of some damn _curiosity._

"Dean? You with me, man?" The elder Winchester was brought of his slip into thought by Sam's long fingers snapping together in front of his face. Irritably Dean pushed them away, frowning.

"Yeah Sam, sorry; I was just thinking..." He cocked his head to one side lightly, eyes focusing on his brother's face, wanting to be ready for any reaction. "You know that Slash stuff you were talking about? The people who write about you and I...together?" Sam's slight flush gave Dean the only answer he needed. But how to continue? "Well...I've been reading some of that stuff..."

"You've _what?_" Sam gasped, his eyes widening as he turned fully towards his brother, shock registering on his still-flushed face. Dean couldn't help smirk at the girlish reaction, something that Sam apparently took a different way. The youngest Winchester shook his head, backing away from Dean as though just by mentioning Slash it was suddenly going to happen, hands raised in a defensive stance. "No, Dean, you can't be serious..."

"Relax, Samantha, your virginity is still safe," Dean replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes to disguise the surprising hurt he felt, for several reasons. First of all, that Sam hadn't even _considered _it? It made Dean feel like some sort of sexual deviant, which in a way incest definitely made him, and his pride was hurt. Sure, it might be gay and incestuous, but Dean was a good-looking guy; he could turn heads of both genders. Secondly, the lack of trust his brother was currently showing him...Just because Dean brought it up didn't mean he was going to _do_ anything about it. It was just a topic of conversation...and he would never admit to being really, _really_ curious about it.

So why the reaction?

"Sorry, man...you just freaked me out there," Sam breathed in relief, one hand going to the back of his neck and rubbing the tense muscle just above the last bone in his spine, head tilted to one side slightly. His unruly, permanent-sex-hair fell forward to shield most of his face, his cheeks still flushed and his teeth sinking into his lower lip again. Christ...his lips were so swollen now. Beautiful.

When did Dean finally start to notice these things about his brother? Well...the writers always seemed to, and Dean had been watching, and they were _right_. Sam really was a beautiful, beautiful boy. Tall and lean but muscled and strong from hunting. He was smart and did his half of the job incredibly well. His eyes _were_ dark and brooding most of the time, and while Dean had been previously casting it aside as 'Sam's emo face' or 'Sam's puppy face', he had only begun to realize just how expressive Sam could be, with just a little twitch in his features, a subtle shift in expression.

Dean shifted his weight onto his other foot, heaving a sigh. "Why would that freak you out, man? All I said was that I've been reading it and you go all 'forty-year-old virgin' on me." He rolled his eyes again, something the writers had noted he did a lot. He'd tried to cut down but it was now an unshakable habit.

Sam shrugged, brushing some of the hair from his face as he stopped his retreat. "I just...I don't know...it freaked me out that you would even read that shit. I mean some of it is pretty...far-fetched..."

"Wait...Sam...have _you_ read some of it?" Sam's cheeks darkened in embarrassed blush as he looked to the linoleum separating him and his elder brother. "Jesus...but doesn't it freak you out how accurate some of them are? I mean I don't know about you but _shit_, they've almost got it spot on."

"Oh really?" came Sam's sarcastic reply. He moved the hand from the back of his neck to the side, brushing along skin right behind his right ear and below, around about where the tendon was. "So you are really sensitive right here, and you love it when I come up behind you and bite it, suck on the skin until it leaves a bruise and then soothe it with my tongue? Yeah, Dean, I don't think so. That shit is just weird, man. We shouldn't even acknowledgeits existence."

Sam was stopped in the middle of his rant by Dean's slow smile. The smile of someone who was definitely plotting something, and once again all of Sam's nerves returned, he took a step back from his brother as Dean took one forward. "Dean, what are you doing?"

"I'm testing a theory." With that answer Dean managed to successfully back Sam against the wall of the motel, his younger brother's breathing quickening as he was advanced on by the older Winchester, definite intent in Dean's eyes. Without a word Dean stopped in front of Sam who was very subtly shaking, looking down the two inches' height difference that seemed a hell of a lot more at this proximity, with worry and fear and anxiety and _want_ shining in his darkened eyes, reflecting in Dean's own. They were crossing barriers like nobody's business right now...all they could really do was trust each other, like they had been doing their whole lives.

Dean slowly ran a hand down Sam's chest, right down the centre and drew another soft shake from his brother before Dean knelt, looking up as Sam all the while to make sure this was okay. Sam didn't know what Dean was doing – he suspected but he didn't _know_ – and so the added adrenaline, flight-or-flight anxiety was charging his pulse into overdrive, heightening his senses and increasing blood flow _everywhere_. Still silent, Dean ran a hand just under the hem of Sam's shirt, all the while making sure that what he was doing wasn't...well, violation. He would stop when and if Sam told him to. At least, that's what the hunter told himself. He ran his warm, calloused hand up his brother's abdomen underneath Sam's t-shirt, he could feel the soft flutter and clench of muscles underneath his fingertips and he found what he was searching for; a scar that ran down Sam's side from a close encounter with a Black Dog. The line was thin and white but it still stood out remarkably against golden skin and hard muscle, slightly raised. Sam shuddered heavily on feeling Dean caress the skin around it, his head falling back and his fingers instinctively searching for something to hold, finding themselves anchored in Dean's too-short hair.

Dean smirked.

"Well I'll be damned; they were right," he murmured, mostly to himself as he kept his eyes fixed on his little brother's face and he leaned in, letting his lips trail just along the waistline of Sam's jeans which hung low on his little brother's slim hips. Sam mewled softly in the back of his throat and once again Dean was struck by his agreement with the writers of 'Wincest'; Sam really did make such pretty little sounds. The older brother could practically feel the heat radiating from Sam's crotch through his jeans, smell the musky scent of Sam's arousal.

Since when had he been so attuned to his brother's _smell_?

Now was as good a time as ever.

Slowly Sam loosened his hold on Dean's head, pushing his brother away just slightly so that he could slide down, back being scratched by the rough wall of the motel. Sam hissed very gently as he sat down fully on the floor, at eye level with his brother. His shocked, dazed gaze met Dean's, whose eyes were filled with a strange mixture of awe, love and desire as he looked at his little brother steadily, not a hint of regret or any other negative emotion on his face.

Then suddenly Sam was on top of Dean, his longer, lanky frame covering the shorter, more muscular man as the brothers' lips met in a fiery clash, desperation making their breathing heavily, their heartbeat thunderous and their movements quick, needy. Sam opened his mouth when Dean finally recovered enough to probe for entrance, tongues sliding together and exploring flesh that they'd never _thought_ they'd need, but it _was_ need. Now more than ever, the Winchester boys felt the strength of a bond that went deeper than hunting and brotherhood. It was _love_, full, powerful, frightening but very definitely _there,_ strong and keeping them together.

"Dean, what in God's name are we doing?" Sam gasped out, supporting himself with a grip on Dean's chest as he pulled his lips away from his older brother's, to test a theory of his own, what he had managed to read from Slash; Dean was apparently very responsive to little nips along his jaw and bites on his pulse; full-on, harsh bites there though. Sam let out a pleased little _purr_ as he felt his older brother shiver.

And when Dean spoke his voice was raw, he sounded well and truly fucked; well, he was going to hell anyway. "Testing a theory?" he said, voice making it sound like a question as he stuck with his original story. His entire body felt the vibration of Sam's laugh, a deep, throaty sound that had blood pooling straight _downwards._

"Whatever it is, I'm really glad we're doing it," Sam said honestly, well and truly prepared for the ridicule of such a chick-flick moment.

Dean smiled, fisting a hand in his brother's hair at the back of Sammy's head, like he had read turned Sam on like _nobody's _business. Sam drew in a sharp breath as his head was pulled up so Dean could meet his eyes.

"Me too, Sammy," Dean replied, voice heavy with sincerity. "Me too."

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**Author's Note: **Wow, writing Wincest is REALLY hard. Kudos to those who manage to do it because I am finding it SO difficult. This is a possible to be continued because I was to get on to full-on sexualness but like I said before; difficult.

My beta doesn't do Supernatural, so this was hardly checked. Sorry for mistakes.

Loves.

HigherMagic x

PS; Jensen Ackles is the reason for existence. xD


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